A Medley Of Oddities
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: The bohemians spend a fun night showing each other their rather unusual talents. Canon pairings, a happey story with lotsa love! oneshot, funful! Angel lives, btw. And what Collins can do? Yeah, that's also something Jesse. L. Martin can do. Truth. canon


**happy story here! just a little onehsot expressing how much i utterly love them all! **

"Roger, what kind of question is that, especially for me?"

"Maureen, I'm the one who asked it, and you're the one who has to answer it."

"Aw shit…fine, what's the weirdest thing that I can do?" Maureen tapped her chin with one finger. Roger settled back contentedly on the couch, one arm slung over Mimi's shoulders. Mark sat on the floor by Roger's legs, and Collins and Angel were sitting in the large squashy chair, Angel in Collins's lap. Maureen and Joanne shared the couch with Roger and Mimi, although Maureen was sitting on the armrest.

"Well…I can burp for a full twenty seconds!"

"Please no," Mimi said, making a face. Roger rolled his eyes.

"This girl can't stomach it, so something else."

"Hmm…there are so many…"

"Hey Maureen, what about your impressions?" Collin suggested, grinning at her. "Remember that time in high school where you talked like Nixon for the entire day, and almost every teacher went insane?"

"Oh yeah! And then when I was doing Ringo Starr and some girl ran around the corner and started looking around so that she could get an autograph? That was classic!"

"Well, do one." Angel twisted around to face Maureen. "Let's see…do Roger!"

"Ok! Ahem…" Maureen cleared her throat, massaged her mouth for a few seconds, and then spoke, her voice an exact replica of Roger's. "Hey, Mimi! How about a nice big smackeroo? I'd really love it!"

"Shut up!" said Roger, but even he was impressed. If you had closed your eyes, it would be easy to think that Roger had said what Maureen had said. Everyone badgered her for more.

"All right…ahem. Camera, camera, oh beloved camera, how do I adore thee? Let me film myself counting the ways…"

"Got to hell," said Mark, unable to suppress his grin. The others cracked up, and Maureen did several others, including Benny and Collins.

"I do not sound like that!" insisted Joanne when Maureen spoke like her. "Do I?"

"Jo, you so do, you so do," Mimi choked out, gasping with laughter.

"Ok, my throat's starting to hurt. Roger, you go next. What weird thing can you do?" Roger shook his head.

"I can't. I'm totally unoriginal."

"Liar!" said Mark, grinning. Everyone turned to look at the filmmaker.

"Marky, what do you mean?" asked Angel. Mark looked at Roger and giggled.

"Just that Roger has a certain talent which, by the way, he made a shitload of money off of in junior high." Roger glared at him.

"Shut up, Mark!"

"Roger, c'mon, you know you want to."

"Pleeeaaase, Roger?" Mimi said, her eyes huge and her lip trembling. Roger couldn't help it. He had to crack.

"Fine, fine, fine! But Mark, I can't do it without—"

"Already covered." From his pocket, Mark drew a half-empty roll of LifeSavers. Unscrewing the twisted paper at the top, he shook out a green one and handed it to Roger.

"Mark, how the hell did you get those, today of all days?" Roger said suspiciously, accepting the candy. Mark rolled his eyes.

"To be honest, I found a couple quarters on the ground over on Avenue A. LifeSavers rock, man. End of story. Anyway, stop stalling and do it." Mark looked eagerly at his friend, leaning forward slightly. Roger rolled his eyes and tilted his head back until he was staring straight at the ceiling. Very slowly, he placed the LifeSaver on the tip of his nose, moving his head back and forth to balance it. Finally, he took his hand away. The LifeSaver stood there, perfectly balanced, just sitting on his nose. The rocker's eyes crossed as he stared at the candy, trying to focus on it.

"Jesus Christ, Rog, that's—"

"Shh!" Mark silenced Collins with a wave of his hand, his eyes never leaving Roger. The others, mouths slightly open in awe, stared at Roger. For a few moments, he stood perfectly still, the green circle balanced on his nose with exact precision. Then he suddenly flicked his head sharply. The LifeSaver flew into the air, wheeling in place. Then, in slow motion, it fell back down, landing with a final _plop_ in Roger's mouth.

"Woo!" Maureen whooped, clapping her hands. Angel, Collins, and Joanne cheered, and Mark bounced up and down, a grin on his face. Mimi squealed and snuggled up against Roger, who chewed the LifeSaver contentedly.

"Shit, that's awesome! How do you do that?" asked Collins, eyes wide. Roger shook his head and smiled.

"Practice, my friend. Lots and lots of practice. It was a better use of my time in math class, anyway." Mark rolled his eyes.

"So true. The teacher let you alone after a while, just because he was so impressed. God, I remember you used to bring in whole bunches of grapes and just eat it all that way, grape by grape." Mark shook his head. "And people _paid _you! Sitting there, asking for a dollar just to see that!"

"Hey, don't complain. You got a share of all that gum I bought, right?" Roger said, eyeing Mark. Meanwhile, everyone else was struggling to hold back laughter. Angel finally spoke.

"Let's see…Mimi, you next! And I know what you can do, girl, so don't try to weasel your way out!" Mimi grinned at Angel, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, Mimi! What's your weirdo-freako thingy, huh?" Maureen asked. Mimi sighed and shrugged.

"Ok. But Angel, I might need help."

"Fine. Just do it." Mimi got up from the couch and moved into a patch of open floor, stretching out her limbs and neck. Then she sat down on the ground. Taking hold of one of her legs, she hoisted it into the air, reaching and reaching until finally her foot slipped behind her head. It stuck there, bare toes wiggling by her ear. Next, she raised her other leg, tucking it behind the first one. Mimi had become a human pretzel; her head poked out from between her knees, and her arms snaked around her thighs.

"Ta-da!" Mimi grinned as they all clapped. Roger reached down and gently pushed her knee back. Mimi rocked backwards, almost falling over.

"Hey!"

"Roger, don't do that. Here, honey, let me help you get untangled." Angel slid off Collins's lap and walked over to Mimi, grabbing one foot and easing it over the top of her head. It fell to the floor with a thunk, followed by the other one. Both returned to their seats, Mimi massaging her hips and joints.

"That's awesome. Mimi! Not many people can do that," said Joanne, impressed. Mimi giggled.

"It's weird, I know, but not as weird as what Angel can do. Show them, girl. No, wait!" Mimi ducked her head down, covering her eyes with one hand. "Ok. Now do it."

"Mimi, don't be a baby," said Angel rolling her eyes. Collins wrapped his arms around her waist.

"C'mon, baby, what is it? And why won't Mimi watch?"

"Because she's a wimp," said Angel, sighing. "And all right, if I have to." Everyone leaned in, eager for more tricks. Angel raised one arm in the air, her hand pointing upwards, palm and fingers flat. Taking hold of one wrist, she twisted the joint, bones standing out against her skin. Then with a sudden loud _pop_, her hand completely slid off her wrist. It was visibly disconnected from her arm, hanging lifeless and grotesque from almost half an inch down her arm.

"Oh god, Angel, that's sick!" Mark groaned, shielding his eyes with one hand. Roger grinned, leaning forward and staring at the now misshapen appendage. Joanne studied it curiously, and Maureen gasped, her face alight with glee at the profound weirdness of how Angel's hand looked.

"Angel, how'd you do that?" asked Collins, sounding amazed. Angel shrugged, the movement jiggling her hand strangely.

"It's called double-jointed or something. It just pops out."

"Cool." Roger poked her hand; it flopped back and forth like a dummy's. Maureen squealed and reached out, squeezing the little finger.

"Can you feel that?"

"Nope. I can't feel a thing when it's like this. And actually, I should put it back. Last time I had it like this for a long time, my whole arm went numb for a week." And grasping her hand, Angel slid it back onto the wrist, the loud popping noise signaling connection. Satisfied, she flexed her fingers. Mimi and Mark uncovered their eyes, looking slightly sick.

"Wow, that was truly skillful," teased Collins. Angel rolled her eyes and poked him.

"I can see you're amazed."

"Shocked. Stunned. Numbed by pure greatness. Shall I continue?"

"Please, no. It wouldn't kill you to be nice, for once." Now Collins rolled his eyes.

"It was incredibly disturbing and stomach turning."

"Much better," she giggled, leaning down to kiss him. Maureen kicked them before they drifted off into lovey-dovey world and left the rest of them to look away awkwardly and leave the loft as fast as possible.

"Ow!"

"Focus, you two. It's Pookie's turn now." Maureen grabbed Joanne's arm, clutching it close like a teddy bear. Joanne shook her head.

"I can't do a thing, honey."

"Oh, c'mon! Everyone can do something, Joanne," insisted Mimi. Joanne tried to repeat that she couldn't do a thing, but the others bugged her until she finally gave in.

"Ok, ok! There is this one thing…"

"Oooh! Do it, Pookie!" Maureen giggled and clapped her hands. Rolling her eyes, Joanne reached up and massaged her throat, rubbing the windpipe and clicking her tongue strangely. The others watched, curious. Finally, she stopped touching her throat and spoke. Only now, her voice wasn't Joanne's voice. It was a voice to make Darth Vader cower in fear, to make all supposed basses hang their heads in shame.

"How's this? Satisfied?" Mark jumped and looked around wildly, as though searching for the source of the incredibly deep voice. Maureen and Mimi gasped, while Roger blinked hard and Collins stared. Angel said, "Whoa" and shifted farther up Collins's lap, edging away from Joanne.

"Jo, how do you do that?" Mimi choked out. Joanne shrugged.

"Dunno. It's a gift. I can even sing like this." And Joanne started to sing, her rich, _deep_ voice, rumbling out like thunder.

"_Wade in the water._

_Wade in the water, children, wade in the water._

_God's gonna trouble the water._"

"Jesus," breathed Mark. Joanne smiled and bobbed her head, taking a small bow. Everyone suddenly burst into applause, complete with catcalls and bravos. Joanne rolled her eyes and smiled wider.

"Hey, you know—" Her voice suddenly caught in her throat, and Joanne sighed, When she spoke again, it was more hoarse than anyone had ever heard a voice.

"Great. I have to quit now." Joanne started to massage her throat again. And within thirty seconds, her old voice was back.

"So, how about that?" she asked, voice still slightly hoarse, but normally pitched again. They all grinned at her.

"That's amazing, Jo! You could become some kind of showbiz person with that!" Collins said, impressed. Joanne smiled. The others unloaded compliments and comments on her particular talent until finally she interrupted.

"C'mon, enough with me! Mark, I want to see what you can do!" Mark turned red and shook his head, but Roger burst into laughter.

"Oh god, Cohen, you _so_ have to do this! I did my thing, you have to do yours!" Mark rolled his eyes, but sighed and nodded.

"Anyone got a pen and paper?" he asked. After a few minutes of scrambling and searching, such items were produced. Mark muttered, "I can't believe I'm doing this," but he proceeded to reach down and take off his shoes, which were followed by his socks. Feet bare now, Mark carried the paper and pen to the table, pulling up a chair too. Eagerly, the group clustered around him leaning forward to get a good view.

"Lesse…Maureen, you have a wonky signature, Sing the paper." Maureen did so, adding as many flourishes and spikes as she could. When she was done, Mark picked up the paper and studied it, turning it this way and that. Finally, he laid it down and sat in the chair, leaning back and swinging his legs up onto the table. He reached his foot down and curled his toes around the pen, holding it a firm grip. Then, painstakingly, he began to write.

"No way…" murmured Joanne incredulously, but Mark kept on writing, drawing the pen back and froth across the paper. After what seemed like hours, he let the pen drop onto the table and swung his legs down, looking satisfactorily at the paper.

"Oh my god, that's insane…" breathed Angel a she caught a glimpse of what was on the paper. There were two signatures there; both exact replicas of each other. And this wasn't a simple imitation; they were perfect, so alike that even Maureen couldn't decipher which was hers and which was Mark's.

"Jesus, Mark, you're such a freak, man!" said Collins, affectionately noogieing his head. Mark squirmed and laughed, swatting Collins's hand away.

"Hey, do mine!" said Mimi, writing her name on the paper. Rolling his eyes, Mark obliged, as he did fro every single other person. By the time he was done, the paper was covered in twin signatures.

"Mark, you know you could forge checks by doing that," said Collins, studying the two _Collins_'s on the paper. Mark nodded.

"As long as I see it, I can write it. And before you ask, I have no idea how I can do it. It's a gift, I guess." Angel patted his back and grinned.

"Good old Marky, with the toe writing and all. You make us proud." Mark laughed. Then his eyes widened and he turned to Collins.

"Hey! Everyone here has shown their weird thing but you! C'mon, man you have to do this!"

"Yeah, Collins, what can you do?" asked Roger. Collins shook his head.

"The only _really_ weird thing I can do is with an Etch-A-Sketch, and since we don't happen to have one, I—"

"Wrong!" said Maureen triumphantly. She turned and ran to her bag by the door, rummaging wildly through the contents. As the others watched, amazed, Maureen drew out a giant Etch-A-Sketch nearly a foot square. Running back to the table, she handed it proudly to Collins, who stared at her with a look of surprise.

"Um, Maureen? Why do you have a monster Etch-A-Sketch with you?" asked Mimi tentatively. Maureen shrugged.

"I got it from a bum down near Tompkins Square Park a few weeks ago, and I guess I just never got rid of it. It's something to do when I'm bored, anyway." They all looked at her for another few seconds, then looked away simultaneously, letting it drift into the "simply-Maureen" part of life. She shrugged and smiled. "Well? Aren't you going to show them?"

"Yeah…yeah, okay. Let me see…Angel, Mimi, you two go sit in that chair right there." He gestured to the big armchair. Angel and Mimi looked at each other, shrugged, and went to the chair, Angel sinking into the seat and Mimi perching on the armrest. Collins squinted at them, tilting his head this way and that.

"Angel, cross your legs…yeah, like that, perfect. Mimi, lean a little towards Angel…no, that's too much, more to the left…ok, great. Angel, relax, I'm not gonna throw this thing at you…Mimi, rest one arm on Angel's shoulder, like this…stop! That's great, perfect, perfect! Now just hold still." And holding up the Etch-A-Sketch like an artist with his pallet, Collins started to twiddle the little dials, the small black line zigzagging like a snake's underground tunnel. Angel and Mimi sat patiently while he did so, occasionally scratching noses or coughing, but never moving too much. Joanne, Roger, Mark, and Maureen all peered over his shoulder, watching with growing amazement.

"Collins, honey, are you almost done? My shoulder's numb from Mimi leaning on it like that for so long," complained Angel after almost twenty minutes. Mimi shifted a little.

"Yeah, I'm dying for a drink. Can't we just—"

"Shh! Just a few…seconds…more…" Collins said breathlessly, his hands almost blurs on the dials. Finally, with a final flick of the thumb, Collins lowered the Etch-A-Sketch, smiling satisfactorily at it. "A masterpiece."

"What? I wanna see." Angel jumped up and ran over to Collins, ignoring Mimi's squeal as she toppled over, her support of Angel's shoulder suddenly gone.

"Wow…" was all Angel could say as soon as she saw what was on the Etch-A-Sketch. It was a picture, and an almost perfect one at that; a portrait of her and Mimi, sitting peacefully on the chair, faces tilted slightly to the side, eyes dark and flickering. Although it wasn't as exact as Mark's signatures, it was beautiful; he had captured the shading and shadows of the pose, the curves and contours of the two people. She could see every curl of Mimi's hair, every sparkle on her glittering skirt.

"Honey, it's beautiful." Angel had grabbed the Etch-A-Sketch and was holding it out in front of her, careful not to jostle it or shake it in anyway for that it would erase itself. Collins wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I think it's one of my best. And I haven't done it in ages, anyway…"

"Jesus, Collins, that's really something." Roger also peered at the drawing shaking his head and grinning. "You were always an artistic dork."

"Shut up," said Collins, rolling his eyes. The others all commented on the picture, pointing out imperfections (Roger) and talking about the spiritual meaning (Maureen). It was a little while before they realized Mark wasn't crowding up to see it like everyone else. Instead, he was holding his camera, tiny handle turning slowly, recording them all on film forever.

It was a wonderful shot. Angel, carefully clutching the Etch-A-Sketch and keeping it at arm's length, her head cocked to the side so that Collins's jaw could nestle on her shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and Roger was pushing him to the side a little, trying to get a better view. Mimi stood next to Angel, one hand on her arm, leaning in for a look at the picture. Maureen stood on tip-toe, trying to boost herself above Collins and catch a glimpse of the picture. Joanne was squirming away and peeking at the Etch-A-Sketch at the same time.

They were huddled together, a misshapen, oddly placed group, each one of them completely insane yet filled with their own special knowledge. They could each do something unique unto themselves, and just as everyone was unique to a certain point, they had blended together, sharing and loving their talents. It was a simple sign of many: they were a weird, utterly whacked-out family. Strange, yes. Frightening, yes. Uncertain, yes.

Loving, yes.

Mark felt the click of his camera as it turned off, and he lowered it slowly. He looked at his friends, so close and so different from what the world saw them as. They were themselves unto each other, and nothing could change that, no matter how many people hated Angel for dressing in drag, or how many people resented Mimi for earning a living as a stripper, or how many people despised Maureen for standing up for what she believed in. Life was love and each other; that was all most of them had.

A grin spreading across his face, Mark set down his camera and went to join the others in the world they all existed in, no matter what came their way.

Friendship is thicker than blood.


End file.
